Let's just say my life doesn't revolve around 3 a.m. feedings, my mans screaming, "But I own this trailer!" as he throws whiskey bottles through our corn husk drapes, and making sweet love behind Old Man Pumpernickel's marijuana patch during Sunday church services.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
What the hell is "brimstone?" Do you eat it? Bake with it? Is Satan just a bad-ass version of Betty Crocker?